Stone Soup
by streetlightlove
Summary: A young hungry traveler comes across a small village in hopes of finding some food. Instead he discovers something unexpected. Written for Tumblr's Everlarkrecs HG: Fairy Tale Challenge. Cover art by Ro Nordmann.


**Hi everyone! This story is an adaptation of the folk tale 'Stone Soup. It was written for Everlarkrecs HG:Fairy Tale challenge on Tumblr. Thank you so much for such an amazing challenge! :)**

**I would like to thank my Patronus: Court81981 for being shimmering and beautiful and cutting through the horror that was my first draft! Thank you! xoxo (Please check out her fairy tale: Spellbound if you haven't already)**

**Also I would like to thank the talented, kind and amazing Ro_Nordman for the amazing cover art, and the banner that I will put up on AO3 and Tumblr xoxo**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

A young traveler approaches a wooden sign that juts up out of the ground. The sign reads 'Seam Village,' with an arrow pointing to the hamlet just ahead. The young man's travels have made him lonely, tired and above all, hungry. He has walked for many days —the last town he came across being quite a long time ago— and the remainder of his food ran out yesterday. He walks towards the quiet village in hopes of finding his next meal.

The first house he comes across is grand indeed. It is made of white stone, and large columns outline the front entrance. The young man knocks on the wooden door and just moments later, it is opened by a portly bald man with round glasses.

"Sir," the young man begins, "I am but a hungry traveler, and I wondered would it be possible for you spare me a bit of bread?" The fat man simply grunts in disgust before slamming the door in the traveler's face.

The traveler finds more of the same as he pushes further on into the village. Most houses give him little more than a 'no,' —however the bubbly, chubby cheeked, blonde daughter of the cobbler did apologize before shutting the door on him. The young man can feel his stomach contract painfully as the swell of hunger builds in him.

The deeper into the hamlet he walks, the poorer the area becomes. The houses are dilapidated and the gardens are bare, the dirt cracked and dusty brown from the current drought.

The next house he knocks at is answered by a very tall man with black hair, dark eyes and hollow cheeks. The traveler barely croaks out the words, "Wrong house" under the glower of the giant before walking off hungrier than ever.

He has given up on the idea of eating today and is about to leave the stingy village in hopes of snagging a rabbit roaming the outskirts of town, when he hears the most beautiful sound. He tries to pinpoint the origin of the alluring crescendo. His ears eventually lead him to a ramshackled gray house with rotting shutters. As he nears the hovel, he spots a young woman with flowing dark tresses and sun-kissed skin.

The woman hangs linens on a rope line tied between two trees behind the house, all the while singing a haunting ballad about a hangman and his lover. The traveler watches mesmerized, unable to move from his spot, until the young woman moves out of his sight, the song fading with her.

From the looks of the woman's house, there is probably little she could offer him in the way of food, but perhaps she would allow him to sit awhile, to let him hear her song, if only to distract him from his hunger for just a little while.

His knuckles rap on the worn door as he finds himself humming the tune he had heard moments before. When the door opens, to his surprise it is not the young woman with dark hair standing before him, but an older woman and a young girl, both with blonde hair and blue eyes that resemble his.

"Yes?" the older woman asks. Her eyes, the man notes, are kind, but she looks far too frail. The younger one (a daughter perhaps?) smiles broadly at the stranger. Her eyes are bright, but her cheekbones protrude more than a child's should.

"Madam, Miss." He tips his hat in their direction. "My name is Peeta Mellark. I have been travelling through this village when I came across your home and a lovely voice singing an uncommon song."

"That's was my sister, Katniss, you heard," the small girl pipes in. Peeta smiles when he hears the name.

"Well, would it be too bold of me to ask for a glass of water or perhaps a bit of bread? I have been traveling for a very long time and would love a place to sit, just for a little while."

"Well, Mr. Mellark," begins the older woman. "I don't know that we have any bread, but you are welcome to come inside." She gently smiles before moving to the side to allow Peeta to pass. The house is clean but in need of repairs. Peeta can see light shining through holes in the roof. His heart sinks. He turns back to the older woman, just barely hiding his distress.

"I am Lily Everdeen and this is my daughter Primrose. My other daughter, Katniss, should be in shortly. Please sit." She gestures to an ancient table surrounded by rickety chairs. Lily moves towards the kitchen. Peeta can hear the clicks and clangs of dishes knocking together, from his seat. "Would you like some tea, Mr. Mellark?" Lily calls from the other room.

"It's Peeta, please, and yes, if you can spare it I would love some."

Primrose sits in the chair next to Peeta, gazing at him in wonderment. Her white lace skirt bounces as she taps her legs excitedly. She looks to have questions on the tip of her tongue, but is unsure if she should voice them. Lily has just set down his tea when the back door opens, the heavy footfalls of boots walking towards them.

The woman, Katniss, enters the room. She grins widely to her family at first, but the smile quickly fades and is replaced by a scowl when she sets eyes on Peeta.

" Who are you? What are you doing here?" she demands, the stare of her silver eyes bearing down on him. Peeta goes to speak but is cut off by the woman's mother.

"Katniss, behave. This is Peeta Mellark. He is traveling through town, and he is our guest so you will be gracious." Her words are firm, but her voice is calm. Katniss looks at the tea cup and saucer placed in front of Peeta, and her scowl deepens.

"Well, Peeta Mellark." She spits his name out. "Those are the last of our mint leaves; we have nothing else to give you." Peeta looks to the flower-patterned cup, mortified.

"I...I don't want anything else..." He feels not himself as he stumbles over his words. "The tea is more than enough. If I had known..."

"Katniss!" Lily, whose scowl is identical to her daughter's, glares at the young woman, her face reddening with anger. "You apologize to Peeta this instant!" she insists. "Peeta, you are staying for dinner, and I will not hear another word about it!" And with that, she turns back to the kitchen. Peeta shares a look with Katniss. After being reprimanded by her mother, he can see nothing but fire in her eyes. She is obviously strong willed—she wears pants while the other two women wear dresses, and her skin is darker (most likely from working outdoors) while her mother and sister are pale. All three are too thin, but Katniss looks like a strong breeze would knock her down. Peeta wonders when she last ate a real meal. The thought causes a pain in his chest.

"What is for dinner?" Half of him asks out of politeness while the other half asks out of morbid curiosity. Katniss's icy glare unsettles him, and he wonders where the carefree woman he heard singing has gone.

"Broth." Her voice is a mix of honesty and shame. She takes a shaky breath, but when she sees Peeta's eyes widen, his countenance sympathetic, her expression hardens once again. She hastily jumps up from the table, retreating to another part of the house. Peeta feels himself tremble with profound sadness when he thinks of how these women must live. He wants to help them—no, he _needs _to help them.

"Mrs. Everdeen," he says. Lily turns to Peeta. "I think I may have something more to offer for dinner." She looks to him, befuddled by his words. Peeta reaches into his bag, pulling forth a perfectly round stone, gray with silver speckles that resemble the color of Katniss's eyes.

"What is that stone for?" Primrose's sweet voice tugs at Peeta's heart.

"This, young Primrose—" He pulls his chair across the wooden floor so she can get a better look at the rock in his hand. "—is a _magical_ stone." Primrose giggles at his emphasis at the word 'magical'

"What kind of magic, Peeta?" She reaches out, dragging her fingertips over the smooth surface.

"Well, this stone, when placed in boiling water, makes the best soup anyone has ever tasted." Peeta watches as Prim's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Truly?" Prim's voice is meek, afraid that he is teasing.

"Truly!" Peeta can't help but smile at the relief on Primrose's face. "Would you like to help me?" She nods emphatically. "Put a pot of water on the fire to boil." Primrose jumps out of her seat, sprinting into the kitchen to fetch the pot. Peeta catches Lily's eye; her expression is guarded. Someone clears their throat behind Peeta; when he turns, he finds Katniss glaring at him.

"What's your game?" she asks in a deadly whisper.

"No game," Peeta insists. "I just want to help." Katniss snorts mirthlessly.

"How?" She closes the distance. "By filling my starving sister's head with fairy tales and false hope?"

"Have you never believed in something seemingly far fetched?"

"I believe in three things, Mr. Mellark." She counts off with her hands. " One, the always present hollow feeling in my stomach. Two, the absolute truth that if something doesn't change soon, I will have to watch my family starve to death, and three, that there is nothing you (or anyone else) can do to change that." Peeta is dumbstruck by the hopelessness that consumes the young woman, not much younger than he, yet whose circumstances have aged her far beyond her years.

Katniss turns away but continues to speak to him, her voice cold and sober. "If you hurt my sister, I will kill you, skin you and cook you to feed my family." Peeta gulps at the threat and shivers at the truth behind her words. Katniss storms away after that. Lily gives Peeta a measured look before she leaves the room as well, but she doesn't say a word..

He finds Prim has filled a gigantic cast iron pot and has managed to place it on the wood stove all by herself. When she sees Peeta approach her, she jumps up and down enthusiastically.

"What can I help with now?" Peeta scratches his chin in contemplation then draws his head closer to her smiling one.

"Have you ever told a fib, young Primrose?" The small girl's eyes go round, and a look of guilt flashes across her face. She brings herself closer to Peeta, whispering.

"I sometimes tell Katniss that I am not hungry, even when I am, so that she will eat something herself." Prim looks down in shame, and Peeta hopes she didn't see the tears well up in his eyes or hear the breathy sob that escapes his mouth. He rests his hand gently on her bony shoulders.

"Well." Peeta wipes the sadness off his face, replacing it with an easy smile. "I need you to tell a small fib, which really isn't a lie since it will eventually be true." Primrose cocks her head in confusion. "I need you to run out and tell some of your neighbors that you have a traveler in your home who can make soup from a stone, and the fib is that you have already tasted the soup, and it is without a doubt the most delectable soup you have ever tasted." Primrose looks nervous. "I promise, Primrose, it will be, but the stone needs the belief of people to work." Prim nods in understanding.

"I can do that, Peeta. You can trust me." She spins and skips out the door.

"I know I can, Primrose." He murmurs under his breath.

* * *

Sometime later, a winded Primrose comes darting back into the kitchen, trying to sputter out words between gulps of breath.

"Told people...some followed...me back... want to see...the soup." She looks alarmed, but as Peeta smiles, Primrose's face relaxes.

"You did a brilliant job, Primrose. When the people arrive, I will speak with them." Primrose nods, rushing to the window; her eyes peer down the road, waiting.

Soon enough, Peeta hears a loud knock on the door.

"Peeeeta!" Primrose squeals. "They're here!" He moves away from the boiling water, the sparkling stone glistening at the bottom. He follows after Primrose.

Halfway to the door, he feels a hand grasp his arm, almost to the point of pain. He turns and finds himself staring into Katniss's quicksilver eyes.

"What's going on?" she demands. Peeta looks down at her hand as it clutches onto his bicep, then back up to her angry, but pretty face.

"Trust me," he urges.

"I. Don't. Know. You," she admonishes, but her hand releases him nonetheless, and she does not stand in the way of him and the door again.

When Peeta opens the door, Primrose is at his side. A large group of villagers litter the front stoop, some with cheeks as prominent as the Everdeens, some with fat faces and greedy eyes. All of them staring hopefully at Peeta.

"We want soup!" someone yells from the crowd.

"Primrose Everdeen said you could make soup from a stone!" someone else bellows. Peeta can feel the small girl cower at his side. He pulls her in front of him, protectively draping his arms over her slight shoulders and pulling her close to him.

"Little Primrose was correct," Peeta calls into the crowd. "Sadly, the stone was only able to make enough to feed myself and the Everdeens, and there is no more. It's a shame though because the soup was scrumptious" Peeta feels Prim tense under his hold as the grumbles of the crowd grow louder. "But!" Peeta calls out, lifting his hand to silence the angry villagers. "If each and every one of you were to make an offering of food to the stone, you could also taste its wondrous concoction."

The crowd is still as they stare back at Peeta, mulling over the idea. A moment later as if in silent agreement, they frantically disperse.

"Come on, Primrose." He taps the young girl on the shoulder before leading her back in the house.

They are just past the threshold when Peeta sees Katniss standing in front of them. Her eyes no longer hold their earlier contempt, but are now wide with wonderment. Peeta inwardly smiles but keeps his face composed, nodding to the stunned young woman as he walks back into the house.

Slowly, villagers begin arriving back at the Everdeen house. Peeta sends Prim out to greet and collect the offerings. The butcher brings a whole chicken, already plucked. The cobbler offers pepper and salt. An older woman brings some carrots while a mother with her baby carries a small sack of flour and a couple of eggs. Peeta, ingredients in hand, sets to work making chicken noodle stone soup.

The soup's hearty smell begins to waft through the house, and instead of continuing to hide in her room, Katniss comes into the kitchen, jumping up to sit on the counter off to Peeta's right. Peeta glances at her out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't say anything.

"What are you doing now?" Katniss asks, leaning forward to try and get a better look at the boiling pot.

"Cutting chicken meat to add to the soup," Peeta answers as he chops the dark and light meat into considerable chunks.

"Oh," she says in return and when Peeta turns to look at her, he can see the longing look in her eye as she gazes at the meat in front of him. Peeta focuses back on his board, cutting two large chunks of dark meat, the skin still attached. He turns and hands one piece to Katniss; she is, however, hesitant.

"It's for the soup," she implores half heartedly.

"Take it," Peeta insists. "I have plenty for the soup, but have not yet determined if this chicken is suitable enough for this batch. I cannot risk the integrity of my magical stone with sub par chicken." Katniss rolls her eyes but reaches out to take the chicken, simply studying it when it's finally in her hands, a small smile on her face. "You too, Primmy!" Peeta calls into the other room.

"Primmy?" Katniss asks, quirking an eyebrow as her sister skips by her up to Peeta, who hands her a chunk of chicken. She happily accepts before going back to her task of cutting rolled dough into noodle-sized strips. Peeta simply shrugs at Katniss's question, a slight smirk on his face.

"And your mother? I can cut her a piece too."

Katniss looks down, shaking her head, her shiny dark locks now in a tight braid that hangs over her right shoulder. "She's resting."

"Ahh," Peeta says, turning back to his cutting board.

"She has episodes," Katniss blurts out a moment later. When Peeta turns back, he sees her cheeks stain a slight pink. "It... it's a big part of the reason we are in our current situation." She has lowered her voice to keep her sister from overhearing. Katniss has his whole attention now, the knife forgotten on the wooden surface. She takes a long shaky breath. "Ever since my father died, she hasn't been the same. She gave up selling her services as a healer, and she stopped helping out around the house. It was like she just started floating through life, almost dazed, like she was in a nightmare, while Prim and I almost starved to death." The bitterness in her voice is palpable. "So one day, I just picked up my father's bow and quiver, marched into the woods, and attempted to hunt. It took awhile to become accurate enough to put food on our plates, but I got there, mostly because of dumb luck and my friend, Gale." She smiles to herself, lost in a memory, and Peeta thinks that he likes to see her happy— he likes her smile and the way her eyes light up with sparks of fire in the molten silver irises.

"But lately game has been sparse, and our garden barely grows anything anymore. So just like before, I have to watch Prim's clothes become too big for her and go to sleep to her stomach's angry screams, and there is nothing I can do about it. I have tried odd jobs, but if I actually do find something, it never pays enough to feed three people for long." Peeta watches her head fall into her hands, and her shoulders sag in defeat. "I'm a failure," she whispers, almost inaudibly, but Peeta catches the words as his breath catches in his throat.

"No," he insists when he is finally able to speak. "You have not failed." He walks to her, gently wrapping his fingers around her slender wrist and pulling her hand away from her face. Katniss looks up, and Peeta can see the tears from the weight of the world welling in her eyes. "There has been so much responsibility put on your shoulders, and you are doing what you can, but sometimes your circumstances can change. It is a heavy burden to single-handedly feed a family."

"But you make it seem so easy," she whines. "You have been here but a few hours, and it is not just my family you will be feeding." She sighs loudly; Peeta looks down not sure what to say, and notices he is still holding onto Katniss's wrist so he lets go, pulling himself away and moves back to the pot.

"Well, that is only because I have a magic stone."

Katniss snorts. "I suppose so," she says wistfully.

"Don't be so sad, Katniss. One day I am sure you will find a magic stone of your own." He turns back to smile at her, and to his surprise, she is smiling back.

"I hope so." She jumps off the counter and strides to the pot, looking in and breathing the intoxicating aroma that rises from the soup. Her eyes close and her mouth opens as a small, appreciative moan escapes her, causing Peeta to gulp. When she opens her eyes, she smirks at Peeta.

"Soup from a stone, imagine that" She shakes her head as she walks out of the room.

That evening after portions of the stone soup have been given out to those who contributed, the Everdeens and Peeta feast, and it is truly the greatest soup they have ever had.

Peeta is invited to stay the night, and as he curls up on the cushions of the old sofa, he can't help but smile when he thinks no one in the house's stomachs will growl tonight.

* * *

"Where are you traveling to?" Katniss asks as she sits at the same spot on the counter, as the day before.

That morning, the Everdeens and Peeta were awakened by a knocking on the door. More villagers had arrived with offerings for the stone in the hopes that they too could taste the amazing soup. Peeta decided he could stay for one more day. After all, everything he makes goes to feed Katniss and her family, and he would never want to pass that up. Plus the allure of spending more time with Katniss was not lost on Peeta while making the decision to remain a little longer.

So he presently stands in front of a pot filled with cubes of pork, greens, potatoes and leeks, and of course a sparkly gray stone.

"I'm on a commision for the king." Peeta watches Katniss's eyes widen, but her expression remains skeptical.

"What sort of commision?" Katniss twirls her unbound hair around her fingers.

"I have been sent out to draw his kingdom," Peeta states proudly. "And when I return, the king will pay me handsomely for my work.'

"What will you do then?" Katniss asks.

"Who knows." Peeta shrugs. "Settle down, build a house, find a wife, have a couple of kids. That would be nice, I think."

"I'm never having kids," she states, her mouth set in a grimace. Peeta stops stirring the soup.

"Why not?" He regards her curiously. Katniss simply answers by glancing around her. Peeta finds himself looking where she looks: the leaky roof, the rotted floor boards, the cracked windows. "It won't always be like this, Katniss." He tries to smile reassuringly at her, but he has found that Katniss does not blindly believe what he says like so many other people around him do. He thinks he likes that about her. The pair remains quiet for quite some time, the gurgle of boiling soup the only sound in the house while Primrose plays outside with friends and Lily sleeps the day away.

"Why did the king choose you?" Katniss inquires.

Peeta flashes her a cocky grin. "Because I am good at what I do." Katniss rolls her eyes, but stays silent, imploring him to elaborate. "I was made to leave home at the age of sixteen," he begins. "My mother did not agree with my choice to be an artist, instead wanting me to take over the family bakery, and so I left. After a few months of living on my own, struggling to make my way, I found a notice pinned to a wooden post in the town's square. The king was to hold a competition to find the most talented artist in the kingdom, and the winner was to set out and draw the land." Peeta drags his fingers through his hair, feeling almost bashful. "I won, and now here I am." Katniss studies him carefully before speaking.

"Can I see them?" Peeta's looks shocked by the request, and he dumbly nods his head, running to retrieve his bag from the other room. He pulls from the leather sack a series of scroll cases, each case filled with a rolled parchment. Katniss gasps as she unrolls the first painting, a forest at the base of a large mountain. "Peeta, these are amazing. They look so real." She drags her fingers across a painting of a shimmering lake and looks almost disappointed when her fingertips do not come back wet.

Peeta watches Katniss study each and everyone one of his paintings, looking more and more fascinated by what she sees. When she comes to the last drawing—a seaport market—she sighs wistfully, rolls up all of the parchments carefully, and places them safely in their respective cases.

"Thank you," she murmurs as she hops down from the counter.

"Anytime," he replies as she approaches the steaming pot, her stomach growling loudly as the aroma of the pork stone soup fills her nostrils. She smirks at Peeta and repeats her lines from the day before.

"Soup from a stone, imagine that."

That evening, just like the evening before, Peeta gives out the portions of soup to the contributing villagers and he and the Everdeens fill their bellies once again, and for a second night, he is asked to stay, which he accepts more readily than the night before.

* * *

So it continues—each day a new set of ingredients are brought to Peeta, and every day he makes a delicious soup using what he has and, of course, the famous stone. All the while, Katniss sits at her usual spot, keeping him company. They talk about archery, baking bread, favorite colors, and their fathers.

As they get to know each other, Katniss's tough exterior softens, and Peeta begins to notice more things about her, like how she twirls her hair when she is nervous to say something. Or how her top teeth sink into her lower lip when she takes a whiff of that day's soup, or how she tends to hum when neither of them is speaking.

Day three brings a minestrone soup, and for the very first time, he gets Katniss to laugh out loud, a full bodied one, when he tells her a joke.

On day four, he makes a creamy tomato soup and has enough spare ingredients to bake bread, which Katniss asks to help with. Peeta reaches around her, his hands over hers as he instructs her on how to knead her fingers into the dough. He whispers directions into her ear, which is just shy of his mouth. Her hair smells like pine. They only break away when Prim runs into the kitchen, begging for some way to help. Peeta looks at Katniss, and he can see a blush on her face that he is sure resembles his. They both divert their eyes shyly, and Katniss mumbles something about _soup from a stone _before leaving Prim and Peeta to the bread baking.

Peeta stands over a luscious pot of buffalo meat chili on day five as he peers out the window to watch a heated argument between Katniss and the tall brooding man whose door he called upon when he had first arrived. The angry man—and Peeta learned this from Primrose—is Gale Hawthorne, Katniss's closest friend.

Eventually he spots Katniss throw her hands into the air in frustration and storm back into the house. Gale sees Peeta spying through the window, his face making his dislike for Peeta obvious. Moments later, Katniss walks into the kitchen, grumbling under her breath. Peeta stays quiet as he watches her hop onto her spot from out of the corner of his eye. When Katniss continues to curse quietly, Peeta turns his attention to her.

"Is everything alright?"

Katniss snaps out of her inner argument, obviously embarrassed. "It's nothing." She shakes her head. "It's just Gale... he's being overprotective."

"How so?" His curiosity is getting the best of him.

"He doesn't believe your reasons for helping out my family are pure; he says you will expect something from me in return, something bigger than I would be willing to give you." Katniss wrings her hands in her lap as she speaks as bile rises in Peeta's throat from the implications of what she is saying.

"What do you think?" Peeta manages to choke out past the burning in his chest. She studies him for a moment as he feels the panic building inside of him. She shakes her head.

"I don't think you are like Gale says." Peeta lets out a quiet sigh of relief. "But he does have a point." Peeta looks to her, silently urging her to continue. "People don't do things without wanting something in return. Even now, my neighbors who come to this house with arms filled with food do not do it to help feed my family. They come because of their sobering gullibility." She shakes her head in disgust. "But above all, they come because they want something. It's human nature." She shrugs and begins picking dirt from under her fingernails.

"I don't want anything from you." Katniss meets his eyes. "I mean, I want your friendship, but I would still be doing this even if you hated me."

"Why?" Katniss is so quiet that he almost can't make out the single word.

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Katniss snort out a laugh. "Stealing from the stupid is the right thing to do?" she deadpans, causing Peeta to burst out laughing. He shakes his head and sighs.

"Sometimes the right thing to do is trick others into doing the right thing as well." The pair dissolves into a fit of giggles. After the laughter fades, a comfortable silence blankets the room until Katniss speaks again.

"Why did you chose my house to call upon?"

Peeta drops the knife he is holding leans his hands against the counter, but does not turn to Katniss. "To be honest, your mother and sister were the first house to let me in." He chuckles softly.

"Bleeding hearts, the both of them," Katniss replies with mock disdain.

"But..." Peeta turns his head. "I knocked on your door specifically because I was lured here by the most enchanting voice I have ever heard, singing a very dark song."

"Oh." Katniss says, looking to her lap as the realization hits her.

"What is the name of that song?"

"The Hanging Tree." She smiles as she speaks. "It was my father's favorite song. My mother was upset when he taught it to me, as she felt it inappropriate for a small child's ears. Now that I'm older, I can't say she was wrong." She shrugs.

"Will you sing it for me sometime?" he asks hopefully.

"Maybe."

* * *

Day six brings the makings of baked potato soup. Katniss sits in her normal place, but today she incessantly twirls her hair and bites her nails. Peeta doesn't push her, knowing she will talk to him in her own time.

"When will you have to leave?" She finally breaks the monotonous silence they have been sitting in all day.

"Soon," Peeta admits regretfully, not meeting her gaze. "Within the next day or two. The cold months are approaching fast, and I would like to deliver my paintings before the winter storms hinder my travels." Peeta sighs sadly at the idea of walking out the Everdeens door and and never seeing Katniss again.

"That makes sense." Her cracking voice attracts Peeta's attention, but when he looks at her, she has already pushed herself off the counter and is walking out of the room.

That night, Peeta dines with only Lily and Primrose. Katniss stays in her room, claiming not to be feeling well. Peeta finds her absence glaring, and he has a hard time concentrating on dinner conversation.

As Primrose retires for the evening, Peeta convinces her to bring in a tray holding a cup of the velvety soup for Katniss to eat, should she wake hungry in the middle of the night. Next to the cup, Peeta places a dandelion he found growing a little ways from the house. He hopes the sight of the golden colored weed, that he ran out of the house to find, will help ease away what troubles her.

* * *

Peeta wanted to leave early in the morning on day seven, just wanting a chance to speak to Katniss one last time before he did. His plans, however, are thwarted by a knock on the front door very early in the morning.

When a sleepy Katniss opens the door, while Peeta stands but a few feet behind her, they find several men from the village guard. An older guard with dark features steps forward into the house, and begins speaking to no one in particular.

"The mayor has requested your presence at the village square in one hour. He also insists that you bring your magical stone."

Peeta knows he should ignore the invitation, that he should leave before it gets any harder to say good-bye. But his curiosity and the prospect of spending just a little while longer with Katniss—even if she has yet to look at him—outweighs his logical side. He nods in affirmation to the guard, who quickly exits the home. Katniss shuts the door behind him, and without a word or a glance to Peeta, retreats back to her room. Peeta sags in defeat.

Within the hour, all three Everdeens and Peeta walk quickly to the square. Once they are close, Peeta notes that a crowd has gathered. He sees what looks like smoke rise into the air, and he can smell the tell tale scent of burning wood.

A final bend in the road reveals that there is indeed a large fire and upon the flames rests the largest pot Peeta has ever seen. He can already make out the thick line of steam escaping the water inside. Villagers huddle around the gigantic vessel holding various edible offerings. Peeta smack his palm to his face, groaning loudly into his hand.

"Soup from a stone, imagine that." He hears Katniss mumble next to him, however the words no longer carry their earlier days' humour, and for some reason, that hurts Peeta in a way he can't quite put into words.

As they approach the mass of people, Peeta spots the short, portly man who had slammed the door in Peeta's face when he first came to town. The man is standing in front of the crowd, raising his hands in an attempt to quiet the horde.

"Who's that man?" he asks of his companions.

"That's Mayor Undersee," Primrose answers gleefully.

"Figures," Peeta mutters under his breath.

When the crowd spots Peeta and the Everdeens, they begin to cheer. Peeta can't help but feel embarrassed for all of them.

"Ahh, there he is." Mayor Undersee walks towards Peeta, his hand extended in greeting. Peeta ignores the gesture, leveling the man with his glare.

"What is all this?" He gestures around the now nervous fat man to the gathering behind him.

"Your stone is famous, my boy! All these people have brought offerings in hopes that you will show us its magic again." The mayor has raised his voice so that the villagers surrounding him can hear what he is saying. Peeta has to shut his eyes to keep from rolling them and must bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from calling the mayor out on his stupidity. He refrains only because he is not sure how his honesty will affect the Everdeens once he has departed.

"Fine." The villagers cheer once more at his acceptance and clear a path so Peeta, Primrose, Lily and Katniss can make their way to the humongous pot of heated water.

Once the four have gathered around the pot, the crowd waits with bated breath as Peeta drops his infamous rock into the hot water. Then come the offerings.

When the first offering ends up being skinned sheep carcasses, Peeta settles on lamb stew.

Sometime during the cooking process, a bluegrass band begins to play, and people begin to dance. Any food that doesn't go into the soup is placed on long tables for the crowd to snack upon. The simple act of making stew somehow becomes a village-wide festival.

Peeta has become accustomed to having Katniss by his side while he cooks, but he has not seen her since they arrived. Her avoidance confuses him and fills him with a painful loneliness. When he finally does spot her in the crowd, he catches her talking with Gale Hawthorne. A pang of jealousy rips through him.

When the soup has finished, the townsfolk gather around the pot, their eyes greedily sizing up their next meal. Peeta retrieves the stone from the pot, cleans it off, and stuffs it safely into his bag. Peeta then begins to serve the soup his _stone _has made. Katniss barely looks at him as he puts stew into her bowl. He still fills it to the brim and tops it with small chunks of plum he set aside just for her. When Katniss looks down at her overfilled bowl of stew, her bottom lip begins to quiver and she takes a heaving breath.

"Thank you," she whispers, and there are tears evident in her voice.

"Katniss?" He reaches his hand out, laying it gently on her wrist. She looks up at him, and he can see the tears in her eyes, the sight of them causing the corners of his own eyes to sting.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not good with goodbyes." She sniffles. Peeta pulls her aside. He cups Katniss's chin with his hand, tilting it up so she meets his gaze.

"Talk to me Kat..." His sentence is cut short when the mayor's meaty hands clasp around Peeta's arm, doing their best to wrench him away from Katniss. When he turns his attention back to Katniss, she has already looked away again, her eyes locked on the bowl of stew in her hands. Her fingers lift to swipe tears from underneath her eye. Peeta groans out loud before turning to glare at the mayor, whose interruption of Peeta and Katniss's conversation leaves Peeta on edge.

"What do you want?" Peeta growls. The mayor jumps at his hostility and begins to laugh nervously; he doesn't speak, but instead maneuvers Peeta to the front of the crowd. When Peeta is fully visible to the villagers, cheers erupt once more. It takes quite a bit of hand waving and hollering from the mayor to settle the masses, and when he does, he stands close to Peeta, his hand still on his arm, displaying him like trophy. Peeta can see drippings from the stew on the front of the fat man's shirt.

"So what's your name, boy?" the mayor asks loudly for the sake of the crowd.

"Peeta," he acquiesces.

"Peeta for mayor!" a drunk man calls from the middle of the mass of people, an open bottle in his hand. Peeta can't help but smirk when others voice their agreement with the drunk.

"Well, I think that job has already been filled." The mayor tries for levity, but comes up painfully short, the anxiety in his voice clear. "But maybe we can convince Peeta to stay and continue to grace us with the powers of his magical soup-making stone." Excited cries fill the air. "What do you say Peeta? We could..." He pauses and glances over at Katniss in disgust. "Get you better accommodations." Peeta stiffens, and thinks long and hard about tossing the mayor into the fire. He looks out into the crowd and knows not a single one of them could hold a candle to Katniss.

Katniss, strong and beautiful Katniss, who puts everyone she loves before herself, who was the only one in the damn town to see through his lightly veiled ruse. Peeta looks back at her, and when his eyes find those molten silver irises, he gets an idea.

"I'm so sorry, Mayor, but I am going to have to turn you down." The crowd lets out a communal sigh of discontent. "However—" He holds his hand up to silence the crowd. "—since you have all been _so_ kind, and _so_ welcoming, I would like to leave you with a gift." Peeta reaches into his bag, pulling out the round, smooth gray rock with silver sparkles the color of Katniss's eyes. When the crowd sees that he holds _the_ stone, a spattering of gasps escape a few villagers, but the majority remain unnaturally silent.

"Now of course I must name someone to be the guardian of the stone, someone to keep it safe until I return to claim it." Peeta's stomach rolls as he sees Mayor Undersee rub his hands together in anticipation, his greedy eyes alive with want. "Katniss Everdeen!" Peeta calls out, and for a moment, everyone is confused, even Katniss who stands off to the side, regards him curiously, narrowing her eyes as she looks at him. Peeta smiles at her before beckoning her over with his hands. "Come on," he mouths to her. Reluctantly Katniss moves towards Peeta, while the crowd remains quiet. Peeta places the stone into Katniss's hands as the shocked masses look on.

"I name Katniss Everdeen the guardian of the stone. She will keep it safe until I return. The stone will only work at her command, but as long as offerings are made, anyone may partake in the wonder that is soup from a stone." Peeta smirks when he sees the pout on the mayor's face, but the rest of the village shows their support through hoots and hollers. Katniss blushes red with embarrassment but still gives the crowd a show by holding the stone above her head for all to see. Peeta can actually see the smile she tries to bite back when she glances at him, but in her eyes, he sees immense gratitude. He breathes a sigh of relief knowing that Katniss and her family will be able to put food on their table from now on.

As the village begins to gather around Katniss, Peeta slips away. It was not his intention to leave without saying goodbye, but now he doesn't trust himself to actually leave if he did. So before someone can talk him into staying, he takes one last longing glance at Katniss, throws his bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the road.

Peeta is just about a mile outside of town, the sounds of the party he created softening in the distance when he hears someone call out his name behind him. The voice sends delicious chills up his spine. He sighs before turning around to face a slightly winded Katniss, red in the face from the exertion of running.

"Were you just going to leave...without saying goodbye?" She gasps through heavy breaths as she approaches him. Peeta looks down in shame.

"I'm sorry. I just thought it would be easier for everyone this way." He waits for her to argue, but instead she just nods, her eyes brimming with understanding.

"Will you return?" Her voice is meek and shakes at the last syllable.

"I have to return." He steps closer to her. "You have my stone."

Katniss snorts. "Peeta, damnit. We both know that stone is a sham. You may have fooled these imbeciles, but don't try that 'I'll be back for my stone' nonsense with me." He can't take the mere foot distance between them anymore, so he moves closer. "I just came here to thank you for saving my family, so if you want to leave and never see me again I'll..." He reaches out, roughly grabbing her face with both hands, his lips smashing into hers, and his mouth slants swallowing the rest of her words.

Peeta's thumbs drag against her cheeks, and his tongue traces the seam of her lips. When she willingly opens her mouth, allowing his tongue to glide against hers, they both moan in appreciation. While Peeta's hands continue to cup her face, Katniss's find the blond curls on the top of his head, using them to anchor him to her.

They explore each other's mouths in earnest, neither knowing if this will happen again, wanting to treasure this moment always. Peeta decides he has wanted this since that day he heard her sing.

They both break away for air, but stay close enough that their lips brush against each other, as they pant.

"Peeta." Katniss sighs, and the sound makes his stomach flutter. He rests his forehead against hers, licking his lips so he can remember her taste as his fingers run through her soft chocolate tresses.

"Then, what other reason would I have to come back?" And as much as the moment kills him, he pulls away, turning before he changes his mind. He continues down the road. This time Katniss does not try to stop him; she knows he will return.

* * *

Many months have passed, when a young traveler approaches a very familiar wooden sign that juts out of the ground. The sign reads 'Seam Village' with an arrow pointing to the hamlet just ahead. The traveler smiles.

He had expected the letter he had sent to go unanswered, but he needed to let her know how much he missed her, and how much he wanted to see her again. It was a shock when he arrived at the castle, and her reply was there waiting for him. He now holds that letter in his hand, the letter that says she feels that same way... and that she is waiting for him.

As he continues to approach the village, he thinks he can smell the scent of cooking soup in the distance.

Fin!

* * *

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